


such bright minds and lives

by younglemonade



Series: within these walls [2]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, as per request
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:35:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8899684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/younglemonade/pseuds/younglemonade
Summary: There are moments, like these - Winn, smirking at them; James laughing; Lena gazing at her with this soft look on her face that Kara can't name but knows that she reflects back - when it feels like the future is tripping over itself to exist, that the four of them might get to be this way forever. ///moments of "such unruly heads and hearts", as told by Kara





	1. the cruciatus coma

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey, this is for ATongueTiedWriter, riddler42, and i_am_peroxide, who requested Kara's perspective on the cruciatus coma & recovery. i don't really write that much of Kara's PoV, so i hope this is okay.
> 
> technically, it's not necessary to read "such unruly heads and hearts" to read this, but you are going to be one confused mf if you don't lmao.
> 
> for a long time I considered writing a version of SUHH from Kara's perspective, but it's ultimately Lena's story, so I would have trouble doing Kara's character development justice. however, I would love to just do some scenes and moments (any, I don't mind) from her PoV. so if you remember a scene that you'd like to see, please comment it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara's perspective on Lena's time under the Cruciatus Coma (chapter 6 of SUHaH), and her recovery.

The first two weeks of Kara’s summer inch by at an unreasonably slow pace.

Alex is busy more often than she used to be (with Maggie, with finding an apartment, with trying to worm her way into the Auror training program), but that’s not what’s anchored time to the ground.

It’s Lena, or more specifically, a lack thereof.

She knows that Lena’s doing important work, helping to track Lex, and she’s proud that her girlfriend is facing her demons, catching them.

But she misses her.

Kara tries to distract herself. She bakes (burns), swims, paints, flies, and just about every other verb she can think of. It doesn’t work. She still worries about Lena, wishes that she was with her.

///

“I bet she’ll be finished with the Aurors soon,” Alex tells her, one afternoon as they’re playing wizarding Cluedo (the Albanian vampire, in the dungeons, with the killing curse).  
  
“I know.” Kara glances up at the pictures strung up on her wall, eyes lingering on the new ones from last year, the snapshot with Lena kissing her cheek.  
  
Alex pulls her into a one-armed hug. “Come with me and Maggie to the city tomorrow. I’ll drop you off at James’ before I go to the Ministry, and he’ll take your mind off things. You guys can have a chocolate frog eating competition.”  
  
Kara rolls her eyes, smiles. “We haven’t done that since we were eleven.”  
  
“Liar.”  
  
“Okay, we did it at Christmas, but don’t tell anyone. It’s savage sport, very high stakes and really gross.”  
  
Alex grins.

///

The water in her painting is being really stubborn. She can’t get the light to reflect off it the way that she wants, and currently it doesn’t really look a whole lot like the Hogwarts lake. As she debates between trying white or light blue to capture the glimmer, there’s a knock on her door.  
  
“Kara?” It’s Jeremiah, but he’s not smiling in that jovial way she’s so used to. His brow is cinched and the only other time she’s seen him like this was when those people from the Department of Mysteries came to their house years ago.  
  
“Hey,” she smiles. “I thought you weren’t coming home till late?”  
  
He gives her a tired look, and says the only two words that could really rip her spine out her rib cage. “It’s Lena.” He tells her more things after that, but she has trouble distinguishing them, cutting them up to form sentences.  
  
A minute passes and then he’s taking her hand and they’re Apparating and all she can think is _please let her be okay._

///

He must’ve got in contact with Alex somehow, because she’s waiting for them in the lobby of St Mungo’s, and then they’re all piling into the elevator, which isn’t going nearly fast enough. Haven’t engineers heard of _emergencies?_ She wishes she’d just flown up the staircase instead.  
  
Kara runs down the corridor, Alex calling after her, until she reaches Lena’s ward. A quick scan shows that a few beds are occupied, but only one has the curtains drawn around it. Chase sits on a hard-backed chair nearby, standing guard.  
  
Jeremiah pats her gently on the shoulder, tells Alex to look after her, and leaves to find Lena’s Healer.  
  
Kara moves over to the bed like she’s drifting through water.  
  
Chase – who seems to be made of exhaustion, an angry cut across her right cheekbone and bruises under her eyes – leaps up as soon as she sees them.  
  
“Alex. Kara,” she greets, hands shoved in her pockets. “Look, before I pull the curtain back – before you see her – I have to explain. She, um, she looks like she’s sleeping. But she isn’t.”  
  
Alex asks if Lena is dying, and her panic drowns out most of Chase’s words, but she does catch the end of her sentence, the bit where she mutters, “… she’s gone.”  
  
The tears start to roll down her cheeks, and she’s just starting to taste saltwater in her mouth when Alex’s arm comes up around her, and she sinks into the warmth. The universe has taken so much from her and Lena in such a short time, it’s not fair, it doesn’t get to take them from each other, too.  
  
So she shouts at Chase, because being angry is easier than being devastated, and maybe if she fights this, fights _them_ , it won’t be real. They argue about traps and trust and secrets, and then finally – finally – the curtain is pulled back.  
  
Lena is as pale as the starched hospital sheets, except for the dark outlines around her eyes. Her chest falls, shallow and rhythmic, but other than that, there’s no movement, not even the flicker of eyes shifting under lids. She’s far too still to pass for just asleep, and instead looks as if death just forgot to completely shut her down, distracted at the last second.  
  
She reaches out, brushes her hand along Lena’s cheek, thumb dusting along the bone. Her skin’s cold, and Kara’s imploding, because she’s touched her like this a thousand times, but Lena’s always smiled at her, or reached up to tangle their fingers, or kissed her palm, and now there’s nothing. Lena is a house with the lights off, and no matter how many times Kara knocks, no one answers.  
  
A long-buried memory claws its way to the front of her brain, and suddenly she remembers that she’s seen this before, or at least, she’s almost sure she has. It barely matters if she’s wrong, because at this point, she just needs something to believe that isn’t _Lena’s never coming back._  
  
So she explains about her friend, raw magic, and frightened souls hidden deep in minds.  
  
Alex and Chase think she’s scrabbling, reaching for some secret Option B, and she is, she is, but how can she not?  
  
When Jeremiah comes back she wants to say that she won’t leave, wants to stage a small revolution against visiting hours. What if Lena can still think, still hear?  
  
What if she’s all alone, trapped inside herself, and Kara’s just abandoning her?  
  
It’s only the promise of returning tomorrow, of returning every tomorrow until Lena wakes up, that pries her away. She kisses her girlfriend’s forehead gently, hopes she can feel it, hopes she knows how much Kara _loves_ her and _misses_ her and wishes she would just _come back_.

///

The days become a vague, flickering montage. Winn and James join the scenery of the ward, but it’s hard to participate in the conversation when all she can think is _Lena would disagree there,_ and _Lena would laugh here_ or _Lena would make a joke about that_. Kara wants to steal a time-turner, to go back to the school term, when Lena was walking and talking and smiling and kissing her and her eyes burned with life.  
  
In that bed, she looks a lot like the little girl that Kara met on the train all those years ago. _Empty._

///

She wraps Lena in her Hufflepuff scarf, mostly to keep her warm and give her something to remind her of them, of home, but also because it’s the only bit of colour in the ward, and she hates how it looks like Lena’s already in a morgue.

///

She and the boys go to the Muggle library and read up on coma patients. Kara closes the book after she comes across the description for being “brain dead”, because she can see Lena if she shuts her eyes, still and silent, just like the textbook tells her. She _needs_ for it to be raw magic, because that means there’s hope. Alex’s words about Lena’s childhood haunt her, though. Because she might be right – Lena could be simply trapped, but they have no way to lead her out of the dark.

///

One night, she sneaks back to the hospital, flying quietly through the window after she’s sure the nurse has gone.

She knows Lena has nightmares – likely even more after a trauma like this – and the idea of her going through them alone tears at her heart. It’s more than probable that Lena doesn’t dream anymore, doesn’t feel or think anything at all, is just bones and blood and skin. But Kara shuts that thought down lightning quick, instead filling her head with afternoons by the lake and adventures in Hogsmeade and the sneaking sugar cookies in the kitchen.  
  
As hard as she tries to keep her eyes open, she eventually loses her footing on consciousness, and stumbles backwards into sleep.  
  
When Lena’s hand twitches though, pulling lightly at her hair, she wakes up faster than she ever has in her whole life.

///

Kara watches Lena carefully for hours, scanning for any sign of further movement, and finds none. It’s only a while shy of dawn when she whispers, “bye, babe” and flies to Alex’s new place. She’s exhausted and trying to be sneaky – London is full of Muggles – so it takes a lot longer than it should.  
  
Luckily, the window in Alex’s bedroom is open, so Kara just crashes straight through, flopping gracelessly onto the mattress.  
  
“You’re lucky Maggie isn’t here,” Alex mumbles sleepily, reaching out with a heavy hand to pat her sister’s cheek.  
  
“Gross,” Kara replies. Then – “No, Alex, don’t go back to sleep. It’s important!”  
  
Alex looks at her blearily, but sympathetically. “Are you having more nightmares about Lena?” she asks, and shifts over so Kara has room to lie down.  
  
“ _No._ I was at the hospital just now -”  
  
“Kara, it’s _way_ past visiting hours.”  
  
“I _know_ that, Alex. But – Lena, Lena’s hand _moved_!” Kara shakes Alex’s shoulder, feeling perhaps she’s a little too out of it to grasp the gravity of this.  
  
“She moved?” Alex demands, blinking, sitting up. “Are you sure? You didn’t imagine it?”  
  
“I’m sure, I’m sure,” Kara rambles. Of course, there’s the possibility that she _did_ imagine it – desperation breeds delusion – but she’s choosing to ignore that.

///

The next day, Lena doesn’t move at all, and all the Healers are asking her the same thing Alex did: _are you sure?_

Just as they’re about to write her off as someone having trouble clawing their way to the acceptance stage of grief, Lena’s finger twitches.

This brings in a flurry of Healers, and Kara’s pushed to the side.

They’re poking Lena and prodding her and after nearly an hour, conclude that this movement signals one of two things: either Lena is indeed beginning to stagger down the arduous road to recovery, or the last of her muscles and nerves are relinquishing their grip on life.

The next twenty-four hours, they tell her, will be crucial; after that, they will know.

///

Every slight, miniscule movement means the world to Kara. Over the next few days, Lena manages to curl her hand into a fist, wriggle a few of her toes, and even turn her head a fraction at one point.  
  
Kara feels pretty useless – she’s not a Healer, there’s nothing she can do to make this process easier, less painful for Lena. So she just holds her hand tight and whispers in her ear how proud she is of Lena for trying, how much they all miss her, all the things they’re going to do when Lena wakes up.

///

“I know you like to read your textbooks over the summer, because you’re a giant nerd,” Kara tells Lena, who looks more like she’s sleeping than anything, these days. It’s comforting; to not have to just pretend she’s still alive. “And I hate studying, but I thought you’d like to keep your tradition going, so I brought Alex’s old sixth year books. We’re going to read them, okay?”  
  
Kara starts to read aloud from the coffee-stained pages, adding her own commentary as they go. Mostly, it’s a few lines of facts, then a “why on _earth_ would you be taking A History of Magic, Lena, you know we were allowed to drop it”, or a tangent along the lines of “oh, that’s like this one time, when Alex and I were younger, and…”  
  
After a particularly embarrassing story about Alex, Kara swears she can see Lena’s lips turn upwards, just slightly, almost too small to count, but it’s enough that Kara knows she’s trying to smile.

///

“So, James and I have developed a movement-incentive program,” Winn tells Lena, who is currently completely still, despite having managed to move her whole arm this morning. “And we thought, what better motivation than annoyance? So, it took ages, but we’ve narrowed down the worst topics in the world, which we’re going to talk about at length until you give us the signal to stop. Now, if it was Kara in your position, we’d just talk about math or something, but you love that stuff, so that won’t work.”  
  
“Anyway, we went and found a bunch of old Muggle literature,” James chimes in, clapping Lena delicately on the shoulder. “Specifically the kind written by old white guys. It’s mostly about cigars and hunting and calling women _wenches_ , so we know that’s gonna drive you nuts. Now, Winn’s got your left hand and I’ve got your right, and you’ve got to squeeze if you want us to stop reading, okay? Only both at the same time will stem the tide of seventeenth-century privilege. We’re gonna work on those Quidditch reflexes of yours. Keep ‘em sharp for next term.”  
  
Kara watches them in a mix of exasperation and amusement. She’s not sure if this is technically a proper medical procedure, but they’re having fun, and that’s the most important thing. To let Lena have a summer, even from in here, to remind her of what’s worth clawing her way back to. Which includes the boys being idiots.

James gets most of the way down the page of some dusty tome before Lena manages to tighten her fingers around his. “Nuh-uh, L, it’s got to be both at once. You can do it. I know you can.”  
  
Winn reads the second page, and by the line “and of woman; that most delicate of species, and like that of a flower: to be regarded, but not valued” Lena gets them both to shut up.  
  
“You did it!” Winn whoops. “You got mad motor skills! Way to go, Lena.”

///

Lena’s eyes open over the course of four days. It’s an achingly slow process, and seems to frustrate Lena no end. Kara isn’t sure what she can see – silhouettes, smudges, blurs? – but it’s enough that Lena can reach out for her, now.  
  
When her eyes finally do manage to focus, they focus on Kara, and she nearly cries.  

///

“For ten points, the most cutting remark you ever heard Professor Grant say, go!” James announces gleefully. He and Lena are sitting (sitting _up_ , which is new – she still needs about three pillows behind her to do it, but they’ve all decided that it’s a total win), judging Winn’s new, home-made Hogwarts trivia game.  
  
Kara is losing terribly, Lena is smiling, and she can almost imagine that everything’s okay.

///

One night, she goes to Alex’s apartment and just _cries._ Cries for the fact that she nearly lost Lena – for a few moments, there, really thought she had; cries in relief that the world is slowly righting on its axis.    
  
“You’re okay, you’re okay, deep breaths,” Alex soothes gently, rubbing Kara’s back as her face buries in the crook of her older sister’s neck.  
  
“I – I just thought she was _gone_ ,” Kara stutters, words wet with tears. She’s haunted by how grayscale everything had seemed in the worst of times, how much she’d missed Lena (and in a lot of ways, still misses her), and it’s all overflowing.  
  
“Yeah.” Alex’s voice cracks a bit. “Me too.”

///

It’s the end of visiting hours, and Kara knows she has to leave. But Lena’s been awake and smiling and holding her hand all day, and she doesn’t want it to end.  
When she leans in to hug Lena now, her girlfriend can hug her back, and it’s the best feeling in the world. She holds on probably a bit too long and a bit too tight, but Lena doesn’t seem to mind.  
  
Kara pulls back to say goodbye, and oh, their faces are really close. And she really shouldn’t, but she hasn’t kissed Lena in _forever,_ and that sucks. So she catches Lena’s eye, waits for her small nod, and closes the gap, brushing their lips gently together. Her girlfriend kisses back, and it’s amazing, it’s everything, and Kara feels like she’s filled with bubbles, the way she does when she flies. It's their best kiss ever, but then again, she thinks that about every kiss.  
  
She needs to go, but – she kisses Lena again.

///

Lena’s got most motor function back, but she still can’t speak. Kara starts to teach herself IWSL (international wizarding sign language), just in case that particular ability never comes back.

///

“Hey,” Kara smiles, “How’s it going?”  
  
She’s not after an actual reply, just a slight movement of the head. A shake if it’s a bad day, the kind where Lena’s filled with numbness and has trouble with gestures and motion. A nod if she’s feeling okay, if she thinks that she’ll be able to stay awake, if her senses are operating as they should.  
  
Lena waves her over hurriedly, and Kara gently sits on the edge of the mattress, anxious. What could have gone -  
  
“I love you,” Lena whispers, in a voice like gravel, and Kara shivers, gasps. Because it’s not just words, it’s _those_ words, and it’s _Lena_ and Kara’s never been so happy about anything.  
  
“I love you, too,” she promises softly, and she does, she does, she does; _so_ much.

///

When Chase comes to visit, Kara always finds somewhere else to be, because she’s pretty sure she’ll start shouting again if she’s around the Auror too long. Kara rarely gets mad at anyone – she just _doesn’t_ , because people are lovely and trying their best and you never know what’s going on with them – but Chase is an exception, because she lied, because she was supposed to keep Lena safe, because she _didn’t_.

///

“Actually, I was thinking that Lena could come stay with me,” Alex tells her over breakfast in the small café across from St Mungo’s, while they wait for visiting hours to begin.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
Alex reaches across the table and squeezes her hand. “Kara, you guys are together, and it’s going to be weird for her if she stays with Mum and Dad. She’ll worry that they’re mad at her for dating you, or will kick her out if she kisses you or something.”  
  
“They would _never -_ ”  
  
“I know,” her sister interrupts. “But Lena’s experience with adults… it’s going to be nearly impossible to override that. She’s probably never going to be able to really believe that a grown-up’s care is unconditional. I just think that with everything that’s happened, it would be easier.”  
  
Kara runs a hand through her hair. Alex is right. She wants Lena to be healthy and happy and safe, and right now, that won’t happen at the Danvers’ house. “Okay. Yeah. Good idea.” She grins. “You’re like the alpha big sister; you know that?”  
  
Alex laughs. “The _what_ now?”

///

Whenever she sees Lena walking, talking, laughing, she feels like she has to blink, remind herself that it’s real. They’re in an arcade in London (“Come on, Kara, I promise you’ll like Pac Man, it’s a video game where you get to eat things.”), and Lena seems fine, seems happy, but Kara’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.  
  
They’re walking up the dim aisles between the ancient machines when Lena slows, using her grip on Kara’s hand to pull them both to a stop.  
  
“Are you okay?” she asks, brushing a lock of raven hair behind her ear. Kara can’t help tracing the movement with her eyes, remembering that no matter how easy it looks now, just two months ago, it would’ve taken a mammoth effort.  
  
Lena’s hands lift up to settle on her waist, tugging them close together, and that makes Kara choke on her answer a little bit. “Y-yeah, yeah, I guess.”  
  
Her girlfriend frowns in concern. “You guess? Kara, if you don’t like Pac Man, we don’t have to stay, you know?”  
  
“It’s not about Pac Man,” Kara explains hurriedly, fidgeting slightly. Lena’s thumbs start to move in slow, rhythmic circles on her skin, and that calms her. “It’s just – I can’t believe you’re here, you know? Everyone thought you were going to die, but now we’re playing video games, and we’re going back to school in two days, and I just… I just…”  
  
“Kara.” Lena hugs her tight, kisses her cheek, holds her gently. “A lot happened. It’s okay to be a bit dizzy with it all.”  
  
“I’m so glad you came back,” Kara mutters, and it’s like her knees go weak, like in Lena’s arms (working, strong, controlled, no longer just horribly still), she can relax for the first time in three months.  
  
“I’m glad you brought me back,” Lena whispers, pulling away slightly so Kara can see her face, see how much she means it.  
  
Then what she says clicks in Kara’s brain. “What? Me?”  
  
Lena nods, smiles, bites her lip. “Of course.” Kisses Kara quickly, barely giving her time to kiss back. “ _You’re_ home.” The next kiss is longer, deeper, and it’s lucky the arcade is dark. “You’re my _safe_.”


	2. the first kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara's perspective on hers and Lena's first kiss (chapter 5 SUHaH), the ensuing radio silence, and eventual resolution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey hey so a few of you seemed to enjoy the last chapter, so i thought i'd do another. this was the most commonly requested moment, and it's from chapter five. writing this part of the story from lena's perspective was really hard, and it was even harder to do it from kara's. hope it's what those who commented wanted.

Kara hasn’t flown since that night at the Astronomy Tower, when she watched Lena fall, watched gravity reach up and wrap its soft fingers around her best friend in the world and pull her down to earth, as if taking her home. Lena hadn’t screamed, hadn’t cried, hadn’t resisted; had just _let go_ , and Kara still dreams about that.  
  
She’s nervous, wringing her hands together, but Lena’s smiling at her, eyes crinkled and skin glowing in the moonlight.  
  
“I’ll catch you if you fall,” Lena promises, and Kara believes her, because isn’t that what they’ve been doing for years? Catching each other?  
  
She closes her eyes, steadies her breathing. In and out. Tries to blank her mind. Flying requires a great deal of concentration: it’s quite hard to think of absolutely nothing. Raw magic is deeply-rooted and instinctual, the body overtaking the mind, and it won’t work with conscious thoughts swimming around her brain.  
  
Kara feels herself start to hover gently, lifting a little higher as the magic wells up from her bones, thriving on the control she relinquishes to it.  
  
But then she opens her eyes, sees Lena watching her, that _look_ on her face, and suddenly, Kara’s not thinking about nothing anymore. The raw magic dissipates, and she stumbles on air, tumbling to the ground, into Lena.  
  
The cobble stones are hard and cold beneath her feet, but it’s hard to take any notice of that at all, not when she and Lena are suddenly impossibly close and arms are tight around her waist, and even though the colour of Lena’s eyes wavers along an oceanic spectrum, they are a bright, deep green in this moment.           
  
There’s a second where they’re both just breathing, where history could take them up either path of the crossroads. Either they break apart, shuffle around awkwardly, and say their goodnights, each determined to not bring this up in the morning, or the gap between them that’s quietly existed for five years is finally closed.  
  
But then Lena’s kissing her, and her brain short-circuits, everything falling away. She’s dizzy and her head is whirling but it only lasts a second; she doesn’t even get a chance to kiss back properly before Lena’s jerking away, staggering back, and they’re only separated by a couple of feet but all of a sudden it feels like a gaping canyon.  
  
Kara scrabbles for something to say, but her heart is still pounding at a mile a minute, and none of the words she needs arrive as Lena walks away, disappearing into the castle, into the dark.  
  
Kara stays in the courtyard for a little while longer. She desperately wants to run after Lena, to call her, to tell her to come back, but the memory of the expression on Lena’s face keeps her still. Her features had been painted in panic and fear, and Kara knows first-hand that the only way to erase those two is time and distance. Because even though she wants to help her best friend so badly, to take her hand, that’s not what Lena needs right now.  
  
Kara deals with things by talking – to Alex, to Lena, to Winn, to James – seeking comfort in hugs and advice until she’s okay again. But Lena isn’t like that, not at all. She curls in on herself, locks herself in her mind, picks up each and every thought and turns it over in her fingers, examining it carefully before returning it to its place in her brain. She is soft and quiet and has a desperate need to be sure before she acts, because she’s so used to things being torn away at the last second.  
  
So Kara might be dying to run after her, kiss her again, kiss her longer, but she shuts it down. She’s had a crush on Lena for years, even if she only really worked it out this summer, at which point she’d rushed off to Alex to endure a few minutes of teasing about how oblivious she can be, and a really warm sister hug. Kara, for once, is entirely on top of things, entirely certain where she stands.  
  
But Lena needs to find her way onto the same page on her own.

///

When Kara doesn’t see Lena all the next day, her resolve starts to waver. By Saturday evening, it’s officially the longest that Kara’s ever gone at Hogwarts without talking to Lena, and it burns, rubs at her skin, the feeling of being alone, of knowing that Lena’s alone too.  
  
Kara goes back to her dorm room early, because if she sighs loudly one more time, the boys will probably throw her in the lake. She stares at the ceiling, and gently pets the top of Wiggles’ head, trying not to think of the kiss and ultimately thinking of nothing else: she’s still tingling, her fingers and toes buzzing a little, and she really, _really_ wants to kiss Lena again.  
  
Would it really be _so_ bad if they hung out a little? Kara presses her face into her pillow. Because the answer is _yes, actually, it_ would _be so bad._ She can’t rush Lena, just because she has the patience of a pygmy puff. Lena would do anything to make her happy – Alex’s words, not hers, although she’s inclined to believe them – and they can’t fall into something that Lena’s not ready for.  
  
But considering that radio silence is physically painful for Kara, she decides on a compromise, and writes a quick note, giving it to Wiggles and sending him fluttering to the Slytherin dorms. All it says is _whenever you’re ready, I’m here_ , and she hopes that’s enough. She can’t read Lena’s mind, can’t help her in any way; all she can do is be waiting to take her hand as soon as she wants it, needs it. It’s what Kara’s always done.  
  
When Wiggles returns with the note unopened, Kara almost convinces herself that it doesn’t mean anything.

///

 _Space and time_ , Kara reminds herself, as she alters her usual paths through the castle, using her knowledge of Lena’s timetable to make it easier for her best friend to avoid her. It’s been literally _two days_ and Kara already misses her a ridiculous amount. She never thought that they’d be the kind of people who didn’t talk to each other, but here they are, blown in opposite directions by a messy hurricane of feelings and doubt and cautiousness.

///

Kara’s usual seat next to Lena in class has been taken by a Slytherin girl that she doesn’t know.

Winn nudges his desk buddy down a seat, waving her over, and she goes to him, trying not to feel a little bit empty.

She doesn’t know what she expected. Of course this wouldn’t be fixed by Monday. But – she’d wished really hard that it would be. Because this really sucks. Not that she doesn’t like sitting next to Winn, listening to his jokes and borrowing his highlighters (little Muggle pens that are _awesome_ ), but she’s sat next to Lena in potions for _five years._  
  
Kara’s glad that that Lena’s got people watching her back, though, impossibly glad, because for once, it can’t be her, no matter how much she wants it to be.

///

“What happened between you and Lena?” James presses finally. They’ve given her three days to shake her head and pout at them in silence, but their friendship group has been fractured right down the middle, and she supposes that it’s only reasonable that the boys want to understand why.  
  
Kara sighs. “I really can’t tell you. It’s not – it’s not just mine to tell, okay? Please? I know it sucks, but can you guys just trust that it will work out in the end?”  
  
Winn and James look at each other, having a secret conference with their eyes, before turning their gazes back on her and nodding slowly.  
  
Kara breathes out, and wishes that she could throw herself forward in time to whenever _in the end_ is.  
  
“But neither of you did anything bad?” Winn checks, making sure he doesn’t need to leap to anyone’s defence.  
  
She shakes her head. “Nothing bad. No side-taking required.”

///

Kara spends more time with Alex, with Maggie, and throws herself into being a prefect. She starts a club with the first year Hufflepuffs, encouraging the shy ones to mingle with one another, playing wizarding board games with them, and generally passing on the senior secrets of the best ways to navigate the castle.  
  
One of the littlest is called Carter, and she likes him instantly. He’s quiet and reserved, and loves to learn, so she never pushes him to talk, but instead sits and does her homework with him.

After a few days of this – her, slogging through OWL study, which truly sucks without Lena, and he battling all the same first year homework that she remembers – he finally pipes up with, “Do you know what a Bezoar is?”

Even after she helps him with his essay, he doesn’t open up much, only occasionally to ask a question, or say “yes, please” when she offers him a chocolate frog. He reminds her a lot of Lena at that age, trying to stay about a thousand yards away from everyone but also kind of yearning to be close as well.

///

Kara still has nightmares, but they seem worse, seem longer, without Lena there to brush the hair away from her face, tangle their fingers, and tell her ridiculous facts or interesting stories until she calms down again.

///

She makes it through an entire week of completely respecting Lena’s privacy before she cracks, and spills everything to Alex.  
  
“You guys kissed?” her sister smirks, eyebrows leaping for the sky. “So why are you here, looking sad, instead of making out with her somewhere or throwing a _Goddamn Finally_ party?”  
  
“She freaked out,” Kara tells her, twisting Alex’s Gryffindor scarf idly through her fingers. “I want to let her come to terms with… whatever this is. She has to decide if she likes me on her own, I can’t drag her into something just because I want it.”  
  
Alex looks at her sceptically. “You realise that Lena likes literally _nothing_ more than she likes you? Not only are you her best friend, and she thinks the sun shines out of your ears, but she’s also had a crush on you since you guys were so short I couldn’t see you if you stood behind those armchairs over there.”  
  
“Alex…”  
  
Her sister sighs, pulls her into a one-armed hug. “Kara… I flipped out _a lot_ when I realised that I had feelings for Maggie. We fought and I left. And then we avoided each other again, when I kissed her and she told me that we wouldn’t work. Look, space is good, sometimes. But all space did was give me room to convince myself that Maggie would never like me back, or that it was all a terrible idea in the first place. I know Lena, and she’s going to be doing the exact same thing.”  
  
Kara wriggles, lays her head on Alex’s shoulder. “She needs to process everything. This would be a big change for us. And change stresses her out. She’s so used to things falling apart that I just – I want her to be okay.”  
  
Her sister kisses the top of her head. “You guys have known each other forever. It’s all going to be all right, no matter what you choose to do.”  
  
“I hope so.”  
  
“I know so.”

///

“I’m getting so freaking good at braiding,” Winn boasts to James, “I can even do the fish one, now.”

They’re all sitting in the Hufflepuff common room, chatting while the Ravenclaw does Kara’s hair. “Kara, we could totally do some of that artsy stuff, you know, with flowers and everything.”

She twists around to smile at him. “Maybe on Saturday.”

“Can’t. We’re hanging out with Lena on Saturday. Winn reckons he’s finally going to beat her at chess, but he’s dreaming. But we’re with you all of Sunday,” James tells her. “I hate that our parents are divorced,” he adds to Winn. 

She rolls her eyes, and it’s light-hearted, but she still feels a little weary. “How is she? Is she happy? Has anything happened with Lex?”

Winn’s mouth pulls down. “She’s… um… fine.”

“Yeah,” James agrees, “ _fine._ ”

“Guys, that could mean anything. _Fine_ is the most meaningless word in the English language, it’s like -”

“Fine like she’s eating and sleeping and doing all that important stuff, but not the level of fine where she’s not glancing sadly at the Hufflepuff table every time we have breakfast with her,” Winn clarifies. “Hair band,” he demands, holding out his hand. She passes him one. 

“But you’re looking out for her, right?”

“She’s super looked-out-for. Candy has been given. Games have been played. Embarrassing stories have been told. We’ve pulled every cheering up move in the book. The only one who beats us at making her feel better is you,” James says. “But she can’t have that.”  
  
Winn pats her shoulder gently. “Don’t forget that we love her, too. We want her to be happy as much as you do. But, Kara, we also love you, and you’re allowed to be sad about this, too. James and I come fully equipped with four shoulders to cry on between us, and look at his biceps. They’re primed to Keep hoops and give hugs.”  
  
She wraps an arm around each of them, tugging them close, filled with affection for her boys, but also painfully aware of how there’s only three of them instead of four.

///

“I met this really cool girl today,” Carter tells her, and Kara’s so shocked that he’s voluntarily speaking to her about anything other than school work that she almost forgets to reply.  
  
“That’s great! Is she in your class?”  
  
He giggles. “ _No._ She’s super old, in fifth year, like you. She’s a prefect. One of the staircases disappeared today, and I was so worried I was going to miss my Transfiguration lesson, but she took me down a secret passageway and all the way to class! I think it probably made her late, but she said she didn’t mind.” Carter gazes at her carefully for a moment. “She told me a lot of funny stories about when she used to get lost in the castle. I think you’d like her. She’s in Slytherin, but best friend is in Hufflepuff, just like us.”  
  
“Did she tell you that?” Kara asks, and she can feel her pulse in her fingers.  
  
“Yep.” He pops the _p_. “Her name’s Lena,” he adds, unnecessarily.  
  
Kara sighs out. It feels like relief. She’s been starting to worry that everything’s going wrong, because it seems a lot like Lena’s slipping away. But if she said that to Carter, then they’re still anchored together, at least for now. “Yeah, I know her, actually.”  
  
She must sound melancholy, though, because Carter looks stricken, although he misinterprets her sadness. “I think you’re even cooler, though,” he informs her hurriedly, and she laughs.

///

Kara tries her best to give time and space. She does. But it’s been two and a half _weeks_ , and maybe Lena needs to figure this out on her own, but it _really_ feels like a little prodding is necessary, because Kara is going _insane._  
  
She hates not talking to Lena. Not kissing her. Not knowing what she’s thinking.  
  
There’s space and then there’s _lightyears_ , and Kara’s never had incredible self-control anyway, but with the added knowledge of _exactly_ what it feels like to kiss Lena, it’s getting incredibly frustrating. And this thing – whatever it is – has a hold on both of them, and it’s obviously hurting Lena, but Kara aches with it, too.

///

When she pulls Lena into the broom cupboard, she does not, admittedly, have a plan. But she has somehow managed to work her way from sad to angry, because she likes Lena _so much_ and it shouldn’t be this hard, and maybe it’s only so difficult because they’re a lot better at doing things when they’re together.  
  
She vents a little of her pent up energy by pushing Lena against the wall, but all that succeeds in doing is making her _really_ distracted.  
  
“Are you going to avoid me forever?” she asks. Even though she understands, radio silence has _burned._  
  
“No, I was… Kara, please step back a bit,” Lena breathes, but Kara doesn’t, even though she can’t focus on anything but how close they are.  
  
Kara gazes into her eyes. They’re not quite as green as they were that night in the courtyard, but – _that’s not helping._ “I thought if I gave you enough time, you’d figure out… I thought you’d come back.” They’ve always been in each other’s orbit, unable to stay away too long, only their usual gravity never kicked in this time.  
  
“Kara…”  
  
She’s not going to be brushed off. “You don’t get to kiss me and run away, Lena. Not for two and a half weeks. It’s so – you’re – ugh, I’m just -” she isn’t quite sure how to articulate, _not without giving me a chance to kiss you back._  
  
Lena scuffs her sneakers against the stone floor. “Look, Kara, I know you’re angry. I’ve dealt with this all really badly, and please understand I am _so_ sorry. And -”  
  
“I’m not _angry._ ” She mostly isn’t. She’d just started to get afraid and antsy and overwhelmed with the idea that it’s all tumbling out of her hands.  
  
“You’re not?”  
  
“Okay, a little.” Kara shoves against Lena’s shoulders, frustrated with the girl in front of her, frustrated with their inability to sort this out, frustrated with how much she’s wanted to kiss her and hasn’t been able to. “But mostly I’m just – and you’re so – and – god, Lena.” Nailed it.  
  
“You don’t know what you want to say, do you?” Lena asks, smiling, and her face is so obviously painted with familiarity and relief and _that thing she can’t name that’s always been between them_ that Kara decides it’s okay to make it her turn to close the gap.  
  
Her hands move of their own accord, travelling upwards to rest on the sharp edge of Lena’s jaw, the whorls of her fingers overheating against pale skin.  
  
“I do know what I want to do, though.”  
  
And there’s a burst of that courage she only seems to ever get around Lena, who really _believes_ that Kara can do anything, and she leans up and kisses the other girl like she’s wanted to for months, wanted even more since she fell out of the sky into Lena’s arms.  
  
The response is instant, Lena’s arms jumping up to wrap around her waist, skating up her back, pulling her so close that it’s like they’ve never been separate in their whole lives. Kara’s thumb sweeps over her cheekbone before her fingers slide back, tangling in raven locks, anchoring herself to both Lena and reality. She can’t _believe_ they wasted nearly three weeks, when kissing Lena feels like _this_. Her heart is going wild, and she’s not thinking, just feeling, and -  
  
“Kara.” Lena hasn’t said her name in what feels like forever, and she starts at hearing it, realises that they’re hovering off the floor.  
  
“Oh,” she breathes out. They drop back down. “I’m sorry -”  
  
But she never gets to finish the apology, because Lena’s pressing their lips together again, taking her hand, smiling into her mouth. A part of Kara wants to lean back and just stare at Lena, because they’ve barely seen each other for long, and it’s been eons since Lena smiled at her. The rest of her is too tempted to keep doing what they’re doing, though, and apparently Lena is, too, because soon their positions are being reversed, and Kara is up against a door. 


	3. the astronomy tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kara's perspective on Lena's fall from the top of the Astronomy Tower (chapter 4 of SUHaH), and the days after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for TheDragonPrince and whitetiger1249, who commented that they would like this scene, and for ATongueTiedWriter, who picked this one out of the options I was considering. Thanks guys!   
> This is a pretty angsty chapter btw. I don't mean to trigger or upset anyone, and i'm terribly sorry if I do, okay? please all be safe and happy.
> 
> YOUR COMMENTS KEEP ME ALIVE btw i love you all

Kara’s no stranger to nightmares. With time, though, her old demons have got quieter, fallen into lulls, shivering in her peripheral vision; she’s learned how to remember the good things and fold away the tragic ones, to love something even once it’s gone.   
  
The boggart had dragged every ghost from the back of her mind into the forefront of her dreams, shattering her sleep with the screams of her family as killing spells flew and explosions baked the ground. The night quickly becomes a dreaded enemy, and despite her best efforts, it exhausts her, trying to cohabitate inside her head with crippling grief made fresh.   
  
It’s Lena who helps. Of course it is. Lena would do anything for her if she asked, or even if she didn’t. That’s how they work, the two of them, holding hands, running together, pulling at each other to keep them just ahead of the dark.   
  
The Hufflepuff girls don’t ask any questions when Lena starts sleeping over in their dorms. They too often have friends staying over; Gryffindor kids currently having a row with their roommates, or Ravenclaws crashing after a group study session.   
  
With Lena’s arm wrapped around her waist and the soft sound of her breathing against Kara’s shoulder, peace is far less elusive. And when her subconscious turns ugly, her best friend is there to brush the hair out of her eyes, to kiss the side of her head, to hold her hand. It lets the fear boil away, knowing that however much she’s lost, she’s gained, too.

///

She can’t pinpoint exactly why she wakes. It might be the cold, the silence, the lack of a now-familiar hold; whatever it is, it takes a second for her to realise that Lena’s gone.  
  
It’s possible that she’s just gone to get a drink of water, but a small pebble of worry twists into existence in Kara’s heart, and she slips out of the sheets, and pads out of the dorm, scanning the common room before sneaking out into the corridor.   
  
Lena’s silhouetted at the end of the hallway, looking small and thin next to the giant suit of armour that hulks beside her against the wall. Kara tilts her head in confusion, walking quickly to try and catch up to her.   
  
“Lena!” she calls out, as loudly as she can without getting them in trouble. “What are you doing?”  
  
She gets no reply, and Lena continues around the corner, pacing so fast it’s only just shy of running. There’s a sort of slump to it, though, not her usual pace at all, and her head lolls to the side.   
  
Kara’s puzzled for a moment, before she realises that Lena might be sleepwalking. She remembers Alex telling her not to wake someone who’s sleepwalking, and it’s best to just gently lead them back to bed.   
  
Kara tries to catch her, without being so loud as to startle her out of sleep, but the gap between them widens. She doesn’t really start to worry, though, until Lena sets foot on the first step of the staircase leading up the Astronomy Tower, lurching forward slightly, almost like she’s being tugged on her way. Sleeping people and great heights are a terrible combination.   
  
Lena’s climbing up the stairs at an almost superhuman speed; she should’ve tired by now, or at least slowed down. The cramped, spiralling nature of the stairwell means that she can’t fly up to her, not without crashing and wasting time.   
  
“Lena! Lena!” she calls out, because she’d rather Lena wake up in shock than have something awful happen higher up.   
  
Suddenly, the staircase has ended, and Lena is moving across the circular room impossibly fast, as if each step builds momentum, dodging past telescopes she couldn’t possibly see if she were really asleep. 

“LENA! Lena, stop!” she screams, desperation colouring the words as they leave her tongue. Raven hair is thrown back in the wind as Lena staggers closer and closer to the giant, gaping window in the side of the Tower, the one that Kara once loved because it let her see the stars.   
  
She knows, somehow, right then, that if she’s ever here again, she won’t think of beautiful cosmos, but of the most terror she’s felt since the day her colony burned.   
  
Lena shudders, freezing, and turns around to face Kara; she realises that Lena’s eyes are open, has no idea how long they have been, if she was ever unconscious at all. Her heart hammers.   
  
She changes tack quickly, using a soft voice, trying to keep everything still and calm. “Lena, you’ve got to step back, or you’re going to fall over the edge,” she breathes out, each word lacquered with fear, impossibly aware of the quickly mounting stakes. She can’t believe that ten minutes ago they were asleep in bed, wound tightly around each other, and now it’s like she left her stomach back in the Hufflepuff dorms, and her insides are hollow.   
  
“Kara -” Lena whispers, and she looks somehow both confused and entirely certain at the same time, before she leans forward and steps over the edge.   
Kara’s heart actually _breaks_ – not in the simple, love lost kind of way, but completely implodes, down entirely different fracture lines than the ones formed last time she lost everything.   
  
But then, just for a second, she sees the necklace, tugged out almost completely horizontal, jerking Lena forward, and Kara almost breathes in relief before she realises that Lena’s still falling, still going to _die_ , and she doesn’t have to think. Doesn’t have to do anything but run, and jump after her, leap out into the night with her because that’s them, side by side, no matter what.   
  
Even though she probably can’t save them.  
  
Lena looks peaceful as she tumbles downwards like a doll falling out of child’s hand, and Kara hates it because it’s a lot like giving up. She reaches deep, tries to calm herself as much as she can to use the raw magic required to catch up to Lena, when she started falling first. Finally, she grabs Lena in a tight hold, almost like they’re sleeping and she’s having a nightmare, except this is worse and somehow also horribly real.   
  
She’s never flown two people before, and she’s panicking far too much to have the level of focus that raw magic needs. The most she can hope to do is slow them down to the point where they can survive. Kara tries her best, concentrates as hard as she can, but she _can’t_ , not when they could _die_ and she’d thought Lena _stepped._  
  
Barely a second before impact, Lena twists them, so Kara lands on top of her when they crash violently into the ground. The earth has never seemed so unforgiving; how could the same dirt that makes flowers grow also let Lena’s bones make that awful snapping sound?   
  
“Kara? Kara, are you okay?” Lena demands, her voice thin but determined.  
  
She isn’t sure if she’s alright. Mentally, no way in hell, and physically, she’s still too dizzy with the bubbling of raw magic and the energy it costs to be able to tell if she’s damaged in any way. But she says the only thing she’s sure will let Lena think about herself for a second. “I’m fine, I think.”  
  
There’s a beat of silence, both of them registering what’s happened, and the fact that they’re still alive at all. Kara looks up. The top of the Astronomy Tower reaches so far into the sky that she can’t even make it out properly among all the darkness.   
  
Then Lena’s shouting, “Kara, you’re an idiot! I can’t believe you did that. You can’t _fly_ with two people, yet! You could’ve _died_.”  
  
Part of her wants to punch Lena, to scream at her that she doesn’t care, how could she care? Lena says it as if it was a choice that Kara deliberated, and it aches that she doesn’t know it was an instinct, a reflex that she would never have resisted. And she’s so _angry_ that even after everything, all the change and the growth and the new beginnings, there’s still a part of Lena that will always believe she is worth less than the rest of them, and Kara doesn’t have enough raw magic in her to make that go away.

“Well you _would’ve_ died if I hadn’t!” she yells back, bursting with frustration and fear and hatred at the futility of the fact that Lena might not ever love herself as much as Kara loves her, ever even believe that she’s as important to Kara as she is.   
  
Maybe Lena should learn to read minds. Maybe then she’d understand.   
  
Then Professor Grant is storming over to them, and Kara is being pulled into Alex’s lap, wrapped in her arms, and her big sister is nearly crying, might actually be, and Kara hugs her back, never taking her eyes off Lena. She should be the one being held.   
  
Kara tunes into the conversation in time to hear Lena mumble, “I – I don’t know,” before slipping back onto the ground as her eyes roll into her head.   
  
The white of her exposed shinbone almost glows in the night, and Kara wants to be sick. Because it’s the match that sets the gasoline of her mind alight, swamping her with images of how broken she could’ve been.

///

Lena lies completely still in the hospital wing bed. She doesn’t look like she’s sleeping, and not even like she’s dead, but rather more like she was never alive at all – a beautiful porcelain doll that no one bothered to animate, left untouched in its box to keep it safe.   
  
Kara sits on the edge of her mattress, one hand twisted in the starched sheets and the other resting on Lena’s sternum, because from there she can feel the rise and fall of her chest, the steady thrum of her heart. She’s still on edge, still waiting to hear that something went wrong, and they’ve lost it all anyway.   
  
Professor Grant grills her for what feels like hours, and Kara rambles out her best attempt at a chronological recount of events. She stutters and stumbles over words, trying to articulate that death’s greedy fingers had again acquired a taste for the people in Kara’s life, reaching rotten hands out and touching Lena on the shoulder. Lena, who is so good, and doesn’t even understand herself yet exactly _how_ good. Lena, who is going to change the world, who Kara loves all the way down to her _bones_ and then deeper, who has been dealt a dark hand and a darker river still. Lena, who deserves the world, and gets nothing.

///

Kara barely hears the version of events that Lena gives; she’s too transfixed by the fact that she’s talking at all, that her lips are moving and she’s still _her_ and she’s going to be okay. Eventually.   
  
She’s been fighting against the tears for a millennium, but when Professor Grant says, “Why kill you if he could get you to kill yourself?”, she breaks, lets the salt water fall across her cheeks, each drop that chases the previous getting faster and faster, momentum from sadness.   
  
When Lena explains that the only reason this happened at all was because she was trying to protect Kara from her dreams, hold her instead of binding herself, it wrecks her. She’d have nightmares twenty-four hours a day if it meant Lena was safe and happy, and she’s sure her horror reads clearly on her face, because Lena winces.   
  
She loses track of time again and suddenly Professor Grant is leaving, taking the necklace with her. Supposedly, Lena’s safe now, but Kara wants to hold her hand forever, just to be sure.   
  
So she does. Reaches out and tangles their fingers together. Lena’s always run cool, and she’s never minded, because Kara’s slightly warm, so it’s perfect, but now, she wishes Lena felt less chilled. She’s desperately searching for signs of life. The more she finds the more anchored she feels.  
  
“It,” she finally manages through the tears, “I didn’t see the necklace right away, and… Just for a second, it looked like you stepped.” _Just for a second, my world ended_ , she doesn’t say. Because even though it didn’t happen, wasn’t what happened at all, there’s a part of her that believes it could’ve. That plugs Lena’s childhood and her self-esteem and her quietness and how lost she gets all into an equation, and totals up to something that pulls the universe out from under Kara’s feet.   
  
“It was all the necklace,” Lena swears. “I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.”  
  
Kara wants to believe her, and maybe someday, she will.

///

Kara stays awake all night, even after Lena finally gives in to the draw of the concoction of potions she’s been given and slips into unconsciousness.   
  
“Kara, you should rest, too,” Alex murmurs softly, gently, words said as if each and any of them might shatter her spine.   
  
“I can’t,” she tells her. Kara can’t see Alex from where she’s wrapping tightly around Lena, focusing on the feel of her Lena’s back pressing into her front with each rhythmic breath, and the heartbeat that echoes through both of their chests. The warm weight of her big sister’s hand resting on her shoulder still registers, despite the thoroughfare of thoughts that is her brain.   
  
She’s empty and overflowing, all at once. “I know the necklace is gone, but… I can’t look away, Alex. What if she walks again?”  
  
Alex’s hand moves down to stroke delicately up and down her spine, a calming movement that usually works wonders but tonight does little to curve the harsh edges of the world. “Okay. It’s okay. We’re going to stay up till dawn, okay? You and me. And if you can’t hold off and you fall asleep, it’ll be all right, cos I’ll still be watching her, yeah?”  
  
“Yeah,” Kara hums in reply.   
  
Over Lena’s shoulder and through the window, she can make out the sporadic painting of stars that is scattered across the night sky. She chokes on the memory of the view from the Astronomy Tower, on what might’ve been the last thing either of them saw other than each other.  
  
For the first time in her life, Kara doesn’t want to look at the cosmos.

///

Kara’s usually a deep sleeper.   
  
It was pure chance, impossible luck, that she woke up so soon after Lena left, with enough time to follow her, to catch her, and she _knows_ it.  
  
There are a million universes out there where Kara doesn’t wake until dawn, shaken by one of the girls in her dorm whispering that there’s a body at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower, one of the students. Where she rolls over and Lena isn’t there, where the necklace’s enchantment has fallen back into its slumber, and no one ever knows that Lena didn’t step. Versions of herself and her life where she never sees Lena again, where she spends the next seven decades wondering _why_ , wishing to go back and change everything.    
  
Alex holds her hair back while she throws up in the bathroom, caught up in a hurricane of what-ifs where she loses, where they all lose, where Lena is gone forever.   
  
It’s like there’s a boggart following her about in real time, not just showing her biggest fear, but the more likely possibility of the fork in the road they came across last night.

///

“Are you all right?” Lena asks. It’s late at night, and the matron has long since shooed the boys back to their dormitory. Kara’s allowed to stay, even though it breaks infirmary rules, thanks largely to puppy dog eyes.   
  
“Me?” Kara sputters. “You’re the one who nearly died.”  
  
“So are you,” Lena reminds her. They both know that at any point, she could’ve let go of Lena and saved herself; they both know that she never, ever would’ve.   
  
She thinks that maybe it’s that which haunts Lena. She’s always been willing to do anything for Kara, and now that it’s occurred to her that Kara’s willing to do the same, she’s terrified. Lena is unfamiliar with the power of reciprocated love, the almost-silent, yet ever-present fear that someone would choose you over themselves.   
  
“I don’t care about that,” Kara promises, and it’s odd, but true: she really doesn’t. Her nightmares never involve _her_ hitting the ground, dying alone. There simply isn’t room in her head to worry about herself. Perhaps in a decade, she’ll stop suddenly in the middle of her routine, horrified by what happened to her fourteen-year-old self, but for now, she’s fine. “I just… I love you, and I’m so scared. I mean, Lex’s threats were always awful, but now they’re so _real._ And every time I can’t see you it feels like the world is getting smaller and my heart gets faster and I just – I just…”

She doesn’t know what to say.

That Lena suddenly feels like someone she could lose? No, her experiences as a little kid have given her far too good an understanding of morality; everything hangs by a whisper and a pinkie finger locked precariously with life in a breakable promise. She’s known since long before they met how ephemeral it all is.

That she’s had to imagine life without Lena, now, and it’s suffocating her? No, this isn’t about her, as much as those never-had futures will always linger with her.

That for the heartbeat when she’d thought Lena stepped of her own accord, Kara was terrified, is terrified, that Lena’s life isn’t something she wants to live in? Yes. That she hasn’t held Lena quite as tight as she thought she had, that the darkness of her childhood, of her family, of the poisonous words that small parts of herself whisper won’t ever let go. Lena used to worry that she had a rotten part, a time-bomb cog in the mechanisms of her brain that would crack and seep emotional sewage through her, turning her into her brother. Kara’s worried that she’s more right than she’s ever believed; except Lena’s darkness strangles herself rather than others, chips away at her ribs in a way that Kara can’t rescue her from. 

Lena is so wonderful, but wears black-tinted glasses that mean she rarely sees it when she looks in the mirror.

“I love you, too, Kara. More than anyone. I’m so glad you’re okay. That we both are.” She cracks a weak grin. “I think I might drop Astronomy next year, though.”

She might be kidding, but Kara isn’t, when she agrees, “Me too.”

“And Kara?” What Lena says next makes Kara wonder if she can read minds, or if there’s simply no barriers between them after this long, not even physical ones.

“I’m going to work on it. Being better. For myself.”

///

The idea of a summer apart eats at Kara’s stomach, but she knows she’ll have to live with it, just like she has had to every other year, never being sure if she’ll see Lena at all for the next three months.   
  
Chase tells them that she’ll be waiting outside, and then it’s just the two of them left to say goodbye.  
  
She hugs Lena tight, to make up for all the hugs she won’t get until September. “I’ll miss you,” she breathes into raven locks and the crook of Lena’s neck.  
  
Lena pulls back a few inches to reply, except instead of speaking, she freezes, her gaze flicking down for a second, resting on Kara’s mouth before jumping back up.   
  
Before Kara has even a moment to begin to understand what that might mean, Lena’s tripping over herself to put distance between them, and suddenly, Kara’s alone in the Slytherin dormitory.   


 

**Author's Note:**

> comment any other moments of SUHH you'd like done from Kara's perspective, if there are any :) or hmu at teamsupercorp on tumblr


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